All is quiet, all is still

The forecast for Sunday, that is.

I find myself in an unusual position.

That aside, Calstar is currently on the hard-standing in Swansea having her bottom scrapped clean. A necessary evil however unwanted the delay. She's also going to have her hull polished and her woodwork oiled, so she's going to look quite peachy when she finally goes back into the water and we're set to sail her over to Portishead.

Downside to the work is now that she's out, I can't see how we're going to get her home before Christmas. We've got a friend to help us bring her the 60 miles home to Portishead. Once she's back there, then she's ours to play with. That fills me with a combination of anxiety and impatience.

Anxiety, in that she's bigger than any sailing vessel I've ever handled on my own before, getting her in and out of the marina involves a lock and dodging lots of other boats, and the Bristol Channel is not a forgiving place; 14m tides, brutal currents, and sandbanks, rocks and shoals aplenty. Oh, and down below the bridges around Portishead, plenty of heavy shipping to avoid.

Impatient, because until we take her out ourselves I don't think she really belongs to us yet, whatever the paperwork says.

I really can't wait.

That's not the unusual position.

The position is the forecast for Sunday being pretty much a flat calm, combined with the fact that Hels has decided to go away for the weekend with her husband, leaving me without a crew for Buffy.

The unusual is that ordinarily, in the face of such news, I'd find myself hunting around frantically for somebody else to step in, flat calm or no.

Instead, I find myself looking at the forecast and wondering if I should bother. Maybe I'll spend Sunday walking the dogs instead.

Odd, much as I love the dogs, there is normally no contest for my affections on a Sunday. I just don't seem to be able to drag up the enthusiasm to go and drift. Might be because I'm a little under the weather.

Still, early days. Plenty of time before the weekend. I may yet change my mind.

The mutt in the photo at the head of this post is Luna, our current foster dog. She's settling in well. Still not quite worked out her place, which causes the occasional bit of friction with Lilly, who is quite certain of where she stands. Boo and Bear have yet to accept having her around, so it's hard work at the moment. But she's a lovely creature, quite full of life, and Jack has decided he utterly loves her to bits.